


Fruitless

by Eonneo



Category: Original Work
Genre: Choices, Conflict, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Kissing, Making Out, Novel, Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 12:20:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20309383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eonneo/pseuds/Eonneo
Summary: Cher Chandler is your typical, hard working young female. She's unsure of what she wants to do in life and is unaware of what life can hold for her. As she begins to try and relax, she finds interest in two men who both seem quite interested in her. She finds herself in a dilemma between them, work, and the life of her closest friend. She wishes to grow and simplify her life, but the path is not easy for her.





	Fruitless

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so. I've been wanting to write a NSFW novel for a long time, and I'm thinking this is going to be my first project. I can't promise consistent updates, but I am going to work on it as I have time. It's going to be a bit cliche, but I'm okay with that. I wanted a female protagonist that others could fit into, with your typical feel good smut, cuddling, relationship stuff, etc. AGAIN, I am VERY aware of the typical cliches, but I'm still already having fun with what I've created so far and really look forward to working on this project to improve plots, character creation and development and my overall writing. This will NOT entail a lot of what I usually write. Non-con, abuse, etc. It will have some rough sex though.  
I hope you all enjoy it.

“Hey Jean, how've you been?” I ask, hastily dipping myself to sit into the passenger seat of her car.  
“Pretty good! Damn ready to get some food and a drink!” she exclaimed, a wild grin on her rounded face. Wavy blond strands scattered around her cheeks, and her excitement put me at ease. It was never exactly my thing to go out onto the town and have drinks. I was either busy working or studying – the truth of most people– to enjoy much of anything outside of sleeping. But Jean was a persuasive woman, being my absolute closest friend, and here I was, in her car, dressed neatly.  
“You sure you're ready for this?” she questioned, seeming to feel my apprehension. She knew me quite well.  
“Oh, yeah, of course. I feel a bit guilty leaving so much responsibility around, but, I'm ready.” And I was. We all needed a break.  
Jean swiped her hand in the air before landing it on the gear shift, backing out of the driveway to my tiny trailer.  
“It'll be there in the morning. You keep up enough anyway.”  
“Maybe,” was all I replied. Even if it were true, enjoying myself just seemed like such a sin. Some would argue though that you couldn't live life without sin. I wasn't one of them.  
“Just enjoy yourself tonight. Please. You work hard and I want you to enjoy yourself for a night. We'll hit the bar – that smaller one, The Citrus, and relax!”  
“Who the Hell names a bar that?” I scoff, looking out the window and down the street as she drives up the suburbs into the town.  
“Someone who likes oranges? I don't know. It does well, I guess. Still standing after all these years.”  
“I guess,” I trailed, my thoughts still sitting on my desk with all the paperwork I had due. Jean seemed to recognize the apprehension and said little on the ride. I'd catch up with her once we were seated and I had a few glasses of wine to ease my mind.  
The Citrus wasn't awfully far from my house. It was right near the edge of town, far from the busy city life. It was a good place for a Thursday night out for someone like me. It was a disappointment to see that the bar was closed when we pulled up to the street.  
“Power is out, closed for the night. Sorry for the inconvenience,” I read.  
“Well that sucks,” Jean said on point.  
“Guess we go back home?”  
Jean gave a quick laugh, shaking her head, wavy hair bouncing. “Yes, because The Citrus is the ONLY bar in the whole city.”  
“Yeah, but it's one of the smaller ones.”  
“Well, it'll be good for you to go somewhere larger,” she reasoned, driving away from the bar.  
I sighed.  
“I'd really rather not. The further we go into the town, the longer we'll be out.”  
“And? What do you even have to do tomorrow?”  
“Class.”  
“Oh my God, Cher. Really?” Jean laughed, followed by a sigh.  
I shuffled in my seat, scrunching my face and looking out the window.  
“I don't want to be stuck in that dainty trailer forever. Or at some low-end desk job. You know? It's important to me I get to do something better.”  
“You will! You've got all the motivation in the world! But at the same time, you can't live your whole life for success. What's the point of success if you aren't happy?”  
“I dunno'. Maybe. But I can't pay my bills with happy.”  
“And you can't buy happiness with money!” she answered matter-of-factly.  
“Maybe,” I repeated. “Anyway, where are we going now?”  
“Roxanne's.”  
“What?!” I spat, sitting up, clutching my wallet tightly on my lap.  
“What?” Jean mirror innocently, pouting with her big, green eyes.  
“Why there?” Roxanne's was, for the most part, some cheap hookup bar and night club. It also had a big, fancy hotel across the street and it was common for rich businessmen on travel to go to the bar, spend copious money on meals and drinks and lead young women back to their hotel rooms. Sleazy and cheap seemed to be its theme.  
“Roxanne's is fine. Just don't talk to any men! It's got great food, good prices, and we can watch all the bar rats!”  
“What does that make us?”  
“Uh, the rats that avoid the trap?”  
I gave a fake laugh.  
“My God, Jean.”  
She said nothing. The bar was about 15 minutes into town, between a few businesses and restaurants. We found a spot to park on the street. The sun was beginning to set, the faintest hint of night fading into the sky. There was an orange glow of the distant city on the horizon, and it was quite peaceful. Even with my nervousness, I felt a small hint of excitement creep over me as I watched the life of Roxanne's.  
Dolled up girls made their way in, tight dresses and heels on. They seemed so certain in the way they walked and talked to each other. A burly bouncer stood at the entrance, arms crossed as he stood in front of the painted bricks of the building. It was a bit thrilling, but I still had dread about the event. Inside was dark and dingy, neon light bars bordering the walls. Deep bass resonated in my chest and ears, and it was a bit disorienting. The dance floor was quite filled with cheap grinds and dirty dancing.  
“I hate it,” I told Jean as we took a seat near the edge of the bar.  
“Too bad,” she replied, tossing her purse onto the counter and motioning for the bartender. It was a young red head with a too fake smile.  
“Two gin and tonics,” Jean ordered, and with haste the bartender delivered. Jean tossed a few dollars onto the counter. “Keep the change,” she said, wasting no time in drinking.  
I sniffed the bitter smelling liquid, sloshing it in the glass, reviewing the bar and its patrons. The inside decorations were quite minimalist. Some neon lights, a few abstract paintings and small tables dotting the floor. There was a giant square for the dance floor, where strobes flashed and twirled. The stage was quite small in comparison, a lone male that looked from the 80s swaying around to the beat of his music.  
I took a quick drink and gagged.  
“This is fun? People do this for fun?” I questioned.  
“Yes, people do this for fun! Look at all the people here having fun!” Jean reasoned, motioning at the dance floor.  
“I'm not having fun.”  
“You just got here, and haven't even finished your drink. Talk to me. Let's catch up. How's work?”  
I sighed heavily, shaking my head, giving a sideways glance across the bar.  
“Work is work. Fine. School too. Just living the dream so I can live the dream.”  
Jean didn't seem satisfied with that.  
“What does that even mean?”  
“I means I have to work hard now in school so I can, I guess, work hard at a job later. It's just all work.”  
“That sounds boring.”  
I shrugged, forcing down another sip of my drink.  
“It kind of is. But it'll pay off eventually. How about yourself? Doing alright since the break up?”  
A serious but certain look fell over her.  
“Oh, yeah, I'm great. Now. Wasn't so much before, but that's the past.”  
“Glad to hear it, then. I think we both deserve a bit better than what we get sometimes.”  
She laughed, a big, toothy grin flashing.  
“I can drink to that!”  
And she did, ordering a second gin and tonic while I hadn't even finished my first. Even if the bar scene made me uncomfortable to a degree, Jean had a way of making it better. She was my closest friend, after all.  
“You ever think there's anything more to all this?” I thoughtfully asked. Across the bar was a younger gentleman, very obviously trying to charm an even younger lady. She giggled and swatted her hand at him as he leaned over, beer in hand, offering her a half-sober smile.  
“What?”  
“You know, all...this,” I said, motioning around us. “The...bar scene and the working and all this.”  
She shook her head quickly.  
“What more do you want?”  
I thought on that, and realized I had no idea what I wanted. I had no idea what I meant with that question. Maybe I was just uncomfortable in the bar. Maybe I was uncomfortable anywhere and looked for excuses to justify being uncomfortable.  
“I guess-” the words were cut off as they formed by the red headed bartender dropping a drink in front of me.  
“A nice fellow bought this for you. Another gin and tonic. Said drink it, no obligation, but I can point you to him if you want!”  
“Oh!” Jean exclaimed, patting my shoulder. “Go for it! Go! For! It!”  
“What? You're joking. You're totally joking. Stop messing with me,” I stuttered, shaking my head at the notion.  
“No, really!” the bartender assured me.  
“Do it! Do it! Do it!” Jean chanted, balling her hands into fist on the wooden bar top. “Why not? Just chat with him! See what happens! Have fun!”  
“You're encouraging I talk to a stranger?”  
Jean looked thoughtful, then nodded.  
“Absolutely. Just take no drinks from him directly and don't do anything you're uncomfortable with!”  
I was still a bit in shock that anyone would want to buy a drink for me, or even talk to me. Was I attractive enough for that? Really? Out of all the people in a bar, all the ladies who were dressed in the tightest clothes they could manage. Then there was me. I looked at my clothes just for a moment. Some tacky dress shirt and dress pants with flats.  
Sexy! I told myself.  
“Just go for it. Listen. You got your phone, right? Just text me if anything goes wrong and I'll swoop in and save you. I promise.”  
“This is dumb.”  
“And?”  
I groaned, but it was covered by the pop music playing loudly.  
“Fine. Tell him I'll talk.”  
Jean slid off her seat, grabbing her drink.  
“I'll be around. I'm happy for you, Cher! I am so happy!” she kept repeating as she walked away.  
I groaned again, scrunching up in my seat. The bartender acknowledged the situation and stepped away to go get the man. I looked down at my drink only, heart beginning to race in my ears over the music. Why had I just agreed to that? What curse had this bar put on me that made me feel like it was a good idea to talk to a random man at a random bar? Why had The Citrus been closed, and why had Jean chosen Roxanne's as the back up?  
Each second passed painfully slow. Maybe he would back out. Maybe he'd start getting closer to me and see I was nothing special, and back out, and then I could finish my drink and just go on home. 15 minutes at the bar was long enough anyway. I had things to do at home. Cleaning. School work. I had a lot of things that were more important than drinking.  
I tensed, feeling a presence move to be beside me. With a deep breath, I looked up to see a gentleman in a black suit next to me. He was a bit older than me, likely, with slicked black hair and a squared jaw. He had a slight smile, which accented the older features of his face. Emerald green eyes looked at me pleasantly. I couldn't lie to myself that he was quite handsome, with a touch of charm.  
“Hello, sweetheart,” he casually said. The tone was simple. Not inviting, but a laid back starter. “How are you tonight?”  
Don't fuck this up.  
“Hey. I'm...good. Just enjoying a night away from work.”  
“I'm with you there. I'm here on business myself. Well, not at the bar, but in town.”  
Flirt!  
“Oh, I see. What kind of business?”  
He motioned the bartender over with a nod.  
“Sales work, mostly. I'm a salesman for a company that specializes in electronic communication services. Phone, internet. The basics.”  
The bartender came over, and the man ordered a bloody Mary. It was a drink I couldn't stand.  
“How about yourself?”  
“Oh, uh, just a desk jockey for an insurance agency. Nothing as social as you.”  
The man leaned against the bar top and gave a curt laugh.  
“It's just part of the job.”  
Make conversation, Cher. Come on.  
“What are you doing with it here, then?”  
“We're having a kind of expo here in a few days. I'm just preparing for it. Setting things up, getting the connections.”  
“That sounds tiring.” I took a sip of my drink, giving a nervous glance around the bar, looking for Jean. I couldn't find her.  
“It can be, but it's rewarding if I can get the company some more business.”  
“That, uh, work ethic is good to see these days.”  
What does that even mean? How is that flirting?  
“You seem unsatisfied with your work. In school for anything?”  
The bartender brought his drink, and I hyper-focused on the blood red liquid, trying to ignore the man's piercing gaze.  
“Uh, yeah. But I'm just in to be a secretary. Desk work is...simple. Straightforward. 9-5 kind of deal.”  
“Ah, so you're a simple kind of woman. I like that.”  
“Simple, but...pays the bills.”  
He took some of his drink thoughtfully, breaking eye contact momentarily.  
I took a deep, sharp breath. This was it. This was flirting. This was what people came to Roxanne's for.  
Do better, Sherry. Show interest! Flirt!  
“What do you do...when you're not working?”  
The man perked up some at the question, his brow furrowing in concentration.  
“I play a bit of gold. Tennis. Go out on the lake. The usual for someone my age”  
“You aren't that old.” Ha! That's flirting!  
The man laughed, a genuine smile on his face.  
“I appreciate it, sweetheart, but I've got some years on me. I guess I live by the old saying, you're only as old as you feel.” He shrugged, just slightly, bunching up his suit. “Some days I feel older, some younger.”  
“I get that,” I agreed, trying to finish off my drink so I didn't seem rude. By this point, the alcohol had begun to take some effect, warming my stomach and making my head comfortably fuzzy. The conversation began to seem more natural and my stomach wasn't as twisted as when we first started talking.  
The music stopped, just momentarily, and the DJ announced they were going to play a little fun with the crowd. Immediately, the beat was recognizable to me, but unfitting for the loud, harsh pop of the club.  
“Roxanne by The Police. Go figure,” I say, disappointed in the joke.  
“You know this song?” the man asked.  
“Yeah. Not much of a club song, but I get why they chose it.”  
The man scoffed.  
“I figured this would be way past your prime,” he teased.  
“Nah. I grew up with what you could call 'classic' music.”  
“Really now?” he scoffed, almost as if I were lying. He took another drink. “Name a few.”  
“Well, not that I owe some random bar stranger proof, but I was listening to Derek and the Dominoes earlier today.”  
He gave a curt laugh.  
“Nice to see some sense around here, then.” He smiled, then held out his hand. “Martin. Nice to meet you.”  
I looked at his hand, a bit tentative. But he seemed genuine enough, and so I shook it, nodding in approval.  
“Sherry. Nice to meet you, too.”  
“Sherry. Not a name I see in the younger generation.”  
I couldn't help but scoff.  
“Are you calling yourself old?”  
“I ain't calling myself young.”  
We both laughed slightly, sipping our drinks. The conversation turned from old music to movies, and time after time we both found surprise in the old things we knew. Even with the grinding happening a few feet away, the rancid cloud of cigarette smoke and the drunk patrons, it was a fairly enjoyable experience to talk to Martin. I hardly even noticed my drink after a while, quite intent on listening and understanding some business deal his company was doing.  
There was still something uninviting about the entire venue, but I tried to push it away and enjoy myself. This is what people did, just as Jean had said it. Jean, the wild woman, who did this kind of stuff for fun. Be more like Jean.  
Time passed fast, and then the bar announced its last call. I was mind blown that Martin hadn't lost interested in the past two hours, that Jean hadn't came up and said anything – in fact, I hadn't seen her around – and that I hadn't felt the need to make a quick escape.  
Martin paid his tab then slid off the bar seat.  
“This has been one Hell of a conversation, Sherry. Good to see someone with some culture.”  
I gave an awkward smile.  
“Thanks.” It was all I could manage. I wasn't sure how to handle the interaction we had.  
So we stood there, in awkward silence for a moment. Then he gave a quick laugh, looking away nervously.  
“Let me guess. This is the point you ask me back to the hotel. Right?” I sarcastically asked.  
Martin grinned, shrugging.  
“If you want. But don't think this whole conversation was leading up to that.”  
“Right. You were just here for a drink. Believable.”  
“The truth.”  
“Mhm,” I add, certainly not believing him. I knew what Roxanne's was. Of course, he wasn't from the area, so maybe didn't. Or maybe bar culture was the same everywhere.  
“So, you comin' with me or not?”  
“Oh fuck, you're serious?”  
He seemed insulted.  
“Yes?”  
The thought that this man who had known me very shortly wanted to fuck me was a bit off putting, but at the same time, endearing. Was I that attractive? He had bought a drink for me. He had bought the drink before we chatted, so he only liked me based off my looks at the time. But it had grown from our interests, so it was okay, right? Was I a whore if I slept with him here and now? Would I ever see him again? How did this work?  
He was waiting for an answer.  
“Sure.”  
I could walk to his room with him, and if I didn't want to, I could leave. I'd definitely never see him again if he weren't from around the area. Perfect.  
“Great,” he softly said, leading the way out of the bar. I glanced around as I left to look for Jean, but only witnessed drunk patrons stumbling out. Outside, though, I saw Jean at her car parked up the street. I waved. She noticed me and waved back, then recoiled when she saw that me staying near Martin.  
She tilted her head, and mouthed something, but I couldn't make it out. I just assumed she was asking what I was doing. I just shrugged, then motioned that I'd call her. She still looked a bit confused, then nodded, getting in her car. She must not have understood what I meant, as my phone beeped with a text from her.  
'What the are you doing?!'  
'What people come to Roxanne's for. Right?'  
'You better be fucking careful. Where is he taking you?'  
'Hotel across the street.'  
'You text me if you need me. I'll be right there.'  
'Understood'  
I dropped my phone back in my bag we entered the hotel. The lobby was way too decorated for my tastes, but it was a hotel that seemed to deal with expensive clients, men and women dressed up dotting the halls, even this late at night.  
The thought I was still about to fuck some random strange rang with me. Did it make me look bad? Did I care if it did? Why should I care? I should live how I want, right?  
Into the elevator we went. Silence. He kept his hands in his suit pockets, looking straight ahead, his face expressionless. I huddled nervously in the corner, arms on my hips like I was scolding someone.  
The elevator dinged after a long ride, and at unlucky floor number 13, we stepped off and turned right up the hall. Near the end was his room. He pulled the key swiftly from his pocket, the door clicked, and he opened it. My heart was pounding.  
Inside, it was dark. He went to turn the light on, but I quickly stopped him.  
“What's up?” he asked, and I felt a bit rude for my demand.  
“The...the view,” I admonished, nervously stepping over to the window. It was the entire city, spread out in front of me. Lights shone bright, and in the distance I could see the ferris wheel that belonged to the large city park. It was truly amazing, and I felt my nervousness fade away.  
“I always get a room with a view,” he proudly said. In my moment of stupor, I gasped as I felt his arms slide around my hips to my stomach.  
“You okay with this?” he asked softly, his face coming to rest on my shoulder. His breath was hot on my neck, and I shivered. It was happening so quickly. Why not? Why the fuck not? This view. The fun of it. Why not?  
“Yeah.”  
He said nothing more, his grip on my hips tightening, pressing his entire torso into me. I took a deep breath and held it for a moment. He brushed my hair to the side, his lips falling over my neck, dotting small kisses. I let my head fall back, his right hand grabbing handfuls of me as it slid up to my breast.  
Slowly, he moved to be in front of me, still kissing my neck and jawline, hands feeling up any place they were touching. His lips moved up, gradually, until they met mine, and as soon as they did I felt lightning through my veins. It was intoxicating, somehow, being with this man whose last name I didn't even know. But he wanted me, and I wanted him.  
My arms draped over his shoulders, pulling him in closer, and his hands fell down to my rear, squeezing and bringing our hips together. He had some height on me, so it wasn't a perfect position, but it was damn good enough.  
His tongue worked its way into my mouth, tasting of the alcohol he had drank, and I wanted to be drunk off it. We moved, slowly, until he backed me up against the bed, pressing himself against me, groping and kissing.  
He pulled away, abruptly, tugging at my pants. I felt a quick tinge of embarrassment, but let it fade, kicking off my shoes, socks, and pants quicker than I ever had before. I left my underwear, just for the tease. This didn't do much to stop him, his hand going from my hips to between me and the cloth, two fingers sliding inside of me, quite quickly finding pace at the right spot. He nearly flicked them, his thumb circling right outside, all the while his lips met mine.  
I couldn't help but give him a quiet moan between the two of us, and he seemed to like that. He didn't want to tease me much longer, coxing my underwear off, quickly working away his neat suit. I moved myself to the top of the bed, him crawling over me. From the night stand to the side, he pulled out a condom, placing it on and then hanging over me.  
A bit more kissing, and he positioned himself with his hand, entering me with a slow shove of his hips. Even just one movement felt amazing, and I found myself in bliss. Still, he kissed me, one hand working into my hair while he held himself up with the other. His tongue worked at mine, roughly, as he sped up some. The bed creaked, just a bit, and it drove me wild, the thought of the two of us in that moment. I let my head go to the side, looking over the skyline as he dotted my neck in kisses, and it was a beautiful time.  
Sweat grew between us, small gasps and moans, his hips hitting mine at the perfect angle. My nails held at his biceps, scratching lightly, making him moan louder. His hips moved quicker, driving me to the edge, just for him to slow again.  
“Tease,” you breathed, and he only smiled, speeding up again. This time, he didn't stop, and I felt my entire body tense as the sensation of my climax hit me. I gave a loud moan between us, and this was enough to send him over the edge as well, both of us a mess of tongues and pleasure. When we both were finish, we rested there, him still inside me, catching our breaths.  
“You're good,” I had to say.  
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he replied, finally pushing off of me, walking into the bathroom to clean himself up. The night's wear crept up on me, and I began to feel tired, but dressed as best as I could. He came out, a robe on.  
“You don't have to leave. It's late, we've been drinking, and I'm sure you're tired.”  
I thought for a moment.  
“I'm not sure staying with a random guy is that smart.”  
“As opposed to sleeping with them?” he teased, coming over to the side of the bed. I looked at the clock on the nightstand, and it read 2am, only making me realized even further I was beat.  
“You could...I don't know. Lie to me...or hurt me,” I said, though I knew that seemed a bit unlikely.  
“I'm a businessman, not a politician,” he joked, shrugging off the robe. My body ached to sleep, and I quickly gave in, sliding my clothes off and sliding under the covers next to a man I barely knew. He set an alarm, and wrapped an arm around me. It was a bit awkward, but I was tired and cold and his bare chest against my back was warm.  
I fell asleep quite quickly, pleased with myself and the night.


End file.
